In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

We Suckle on Fantasies It’s a starless night in California’s Highway 33 and my headlights drill through the unnatural darkness. I turn on the radio, Wagner’s Die Walküre bursts as if on cue with a strange light that drops into my view. I pull over and watch from the window a bright dot in the sky trail saffron strands then explode into a bridal veil and disperse. That night it reappears in my dreams to Vivaldi’s Sabat Mater, a seraph upward-winging into heaven, swirling until I’m standing on a calyx of light. The morning papers have its picture in color: A missile, shot from an underground silo hits targets at a range in the Marshall Islands 65 ...

Share